


Special Songs

by rhaegars_harp



Series: Targaryen Extended Universe [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Good Dad Rhaegar, Happy Targs, R Plus L Equals J, Songs for Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:52:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhaegars_harp/pseuds/rhaegars_harp
Summary: Jaehaerys Targaryen needs some help mastering a song.





	Special Songs

King's Landing had begun to shut its collective eyes as the moon heralded the transition of evening to night. Artisans and traders had shutterted their stalls, septons and septas ceased their continous prayers for the reprieve of sleep, and each candle in the city's sprawling red castle had been blown out. Well, all except one.

Thirteen years ago, the peace of walking his own home at night was a foreign idea entirely; a hard concept to imagine when Westeros bled. The Red Keep felt different than the castle he had grown up in, the former bastion of intrigue, paranoia, and anxiety replaced by a palace teeming of life, the future of his family all under one roof, safe, together.

Just two days ago, Rhaegar's eldest dragon, the sun of the next generation of Targaryens, had returned from her fostering in her maternal homeland. The capital had been postively buzzing with energy since then, as the world was introduced to Princess Rhaenys as a young woman, rather than the girl she had left as six years prior. Each member of the royal family processed her entrance in different ways; Rhaegar failed to miss his two sons rooted to their spots with their mouths momentarily agape, smiled when his sister and younger daughter slammed into Rhaenys with a force that two small girls shouldn't have been capable of, and was delighted when his suddenly mature daughter (he really would have to thank Doran) stepped past Lya's politely outstreched hand to meet the queen in an embrace.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms replayed the scene in his head as he ascended towards his quarters, observing the serenity of the halls as a warm summer breeze gusted through the open windows of Maegor's Holdfast. Upon reaching the second level, Rhaegar paused. Resting in the six apartments that lined the corridor were the future of House Targaryen, and the future of mankind itself. The first door on the left had not been used for quite some time, the childhood quarters of Prince Viserys Targaryen. In the most recent raven exchange with his brother, Rhaegar learned that Viserys was still in Volantis, approaching his second year in the city. Across the way stood the room of Rhaella Targaryen's youngest, the Princess Daenerys. While all of his children's growth brought him a gauntlet of emotions, Rhaegar was especially unprepared for the ongoing metamorphsis of his little sister, born in the most fragile time of their family, into a kind, beautiful scion of Old Valyria. The next set of two rooms were dark, signs that the newly-home princess and her younger brother, the crown prince, lay fast asleep. However, as the king drew his eyes further down the hallway, one room in the corridor still burned with light, across from the door that concealed the deep sleep of young Visenya. Gracefully, Rhaegar glided towards the last door on the left, hearing soft curses and floating musical notes from beind the composite wood and iron door. Rapping gently on the dragon-direwolf symbol engraved onto the barrier, Rhaegar was greeted by a tired, motivated, and clearly frustrated Jaehaerys Targaryen.

* * *

"Oh, uh, wait Father I promise I was just going to be-"

Only raising his hand silently, the king's action was enough to cease the young prince's hasty explanation, and allowed Rhaegar to look over his son's head to survey the room. No wineskins out, no whores (Viserys was a continent away, thank the gods), and only one candle illuminated the corner of the room. The light revealed the object of Jaehaerys', or Jon's, current frustration - next to a wooden stool sat a harp, not too large and not too small, that glowed like the moon with its weirwood frame, adorned by strings dyed blood red. A present of Jon's tenth nameday, the boy had shown a love for his father's music from a young age, a topic that bored Aegon to no end. For three years now, the boy had become a better player each time his fingers plucked the strings, but judging from the scattered sheets of music that the breeze had propelled throughout the room, the developing player had run into a big of a snag with his playing. 

In two long strides, the Targaryen patriarch transversed the distance to Jon's harp, stopping to collect the angrily-thrown sheet music. Collecting and neatly stacking the parchment, Rhaegar's violet orbs began to scan the page, silver-blonde eyebrows slowly raising up his brow. Rhaegar ventured a look up at his younger son, finding wide indigo-charcoal eyes staring back.

"Now I can see why you were having so much trouble, Jon. A beautiful song, but so, so sad, why this one in particular?" asked Rhaegar, one brow still cocked as he took Jon's place on the wooden stool.

"I know it's sad Father, but when you asked me to play at the feast tomorrow for Rhae, I wanted to pick a special song," Jon replied, "and this is the most special one I know."

Inwardly, a warm smile spread through Rhaegar, a pride in his son's intellect and affection that were culminating in this moment. Nodding slowly, Rhaegar's body language gave Jon the encouragement to continue, words pouring out after hours and hours of plucking the blood red strings.

"A couple of moons ago I heard Ser Arthur talking to Ser Barristan about Harrenhal, and when you met Mother, and how you played this song and she cried it meant so much to her. Now I want to play it and have someone think it's special, like you and Mama."

As Jon blurted out his last sentence, his face became incredibly red, and seemed frozen to the spot.

 _Dany_ , Rhaegar immediately knew. The two were raised together, inseperable from the moment the Targaryens were reunited after the war. The sudden cacaphony of Targaryen teenagers presented problems that Rhaegar never had to experience growing up, and he supposed there was some sense of inevitability to their current situation. Rising from the stool, Rhaegar beckoned Jon over with a wave of his hand, gesturing for the prince to resume his seat and to pick up his instrument. As Jon raised his hands to position, Rhaegar mirrored the motion just next to Jon, guiding each pluck and note. Slowly, almost magically, the sounds became a melody, a captivating, consuming psalm.

In a quiet voice, Rhaegar offered his final piece of advice.

"Anyone can play these chords, but the voice is what makes this song so special. You can use it to tell Daenerys how important she is to you, that this song is for her."

Clearing his throat, and gulping twice, the still-deepening voice of Jaehaerys Targaryen joined the melody his fingers were producing, closing his eyes to leave his father as an observer, leaned against the tapestry behind the wooden stool.

 

_"High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most"_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Idea has been in my head since Episode 2, finally got it on paper.
> 
> Self-indulgent as hell, I'm a sucker for Rhaegar-era Targaryen imagines.
> 
> Obviously inspired by Jenny of Oldstones, but also listened to "The Night Me and Your Mama Met" by Childish Gambino throughout the jotting down of this lil story. Strongly recommend
> 
> Enjoy and comment :)


End file.
